"Leave, leave! Who said I was going to kill you? Train hard—maybe we'll spar again someday."
Supporting the heavily injured Snake Woman, the Dragon Duke left without a word, bringing Meng Yiran along. Shame clouded his face — such humiliation. In all his years, he'd never seen a Titled Douluo bully others like this.
But what could he do? Strength was everything. The Dragon Duke could only swallow his anger and retreat in silence.
On the other side, Chen Xiaoming watched them leave, feeling somewhat reflective.
The martial soul fusion technique's power was indeed remarkable — no wonder it was said to rival a Titled Douluo. It likely carried the strength of a Rank 91 or 92 Titled Douluo.
Yet in a true fight, the Titled Douluo would still win. The gap in soul power was an insurmountable divide. The sheer consumption of soul power alone would grind the fusion technique down.
"Hmm, I wonder how it compares to the Golden Iron Triangle's martial soul fusion technique... Should I find a chance to test it out?"
A hint of eagerness flickered in Chen Xiaoming's eyes, completely unaware of how shocked Tang San and the others were behind him.
Especially Tang San — with two lifetimes of experience, even he was struggling to cope. The soul master theories his teacher had painstakingly taught him were completely trampled under Chen Xiaoming's feet.
Seven hundred-thousand-year soul rings were already hard to process. And now, in just a few days, the man had become a Titled Douluo.
A few days... Could soul power really rise that quickly? Wasn't this just cheating?
"Gulp... Boss Dai, did I see that right? Is Teacher Chen a Titled Douluo?"
Fatty Ma Hongjun's face was still pale as he swallowed nervously, asking Dai Mubai in disbelief.
Was he hallucinating? Or still dreaming?
"Agh... Damn, Oscar, why are you pinching me?"
A pig-slaughtering screech echoed as Fatty clutched his chubby arm, glaring angrily at Oscar.
"Does it hurt, Fatty?"
Oscar's face was still dazed as he asked blankly.
"Nonsense, Little Ao! If it didn't hurt, how about you give me a beating and see?"
"Oh... then we're not dreaming."
Oscar's eyes suddenly gleamed as a mischievous grin crept onto his face.
If Chen Xiaoming was a Titled Douluo, didn't that mean Shrek Academy was about to rise to prominence?
From now on, they could cause trouble wherever they went and walk sideways without fear!
Among the girls, Ning Rongrong covered her small mouth in shock, unsure what to say. But then she seemed to recall the letter she'd sent home, and her expression changed slightly. She glanced at Chen Xiaoming — surely the letter hadn't arrived yet... Otherwise, there was no way she wouldn't know about this.
"Alright, they're gone. Oscar, quickly obtain your soul ring."
Clapping his hands, Chen Xiaoming stretched his muscles lazily. After the brief fight, he'd warmed up nicely. Turning to Tang San and the others, he spoke lightly.
Oscar snapped out of his stupor, picked up his knife, and walked toward the Azurewood Defense, where the Windtail Cockscomb Snake was trapped.
With a swift motion, the knife fell.
A purple soul ring floated out from the snake's corpse, radiating faint soul power fluctuations. Oscar sat down beside the Windtail Cockscomb Snake, summoning his Martial Soul Sausage. Under the soft pink light, he guided the soul ring into his body, beginning to absorb his third soul ring.
While Oscar cultivated, the others sat quietly nearby, adjusting their states.
With a Titled Douluo present, there was no need for them to stand guard.
Tang San's gaze frequently flicked toward Chen Xiaoming, the doubt in his eyes deepening.
Chen Xiaoming, who had been idly cloud-gazing, noticed Tang San's look as soon as he turned around.
"Xiao San, is there something you're curious about?"
Chen Xiaoming's cultivation speed and soul ring configuration were mysteries anyone would question. But so what? His strength spoke for itself — if anyone wanted to pry into his secrets, they'd need to see if they could survive first.
Within the entire plane, Chen Xiaoming wasn't invincible, but among mortals, none could threaten him.
"Teacher Chen, why... why are your soul rings...?"
Tang San hesitated. If he didn't untangle this doubt, it would always weigh on his mind. Besides, Chen Xiaoming didn't seem like a cruel or wicked person.
"You want to ask why all my soul rings are hundred-thousand-year soul rings, right?"
Chen Xiaoming chuckled, having anticipated the question.
"Remember what I wanted to tell you back at the inn? I'll tell you now."
"You all know that soul masters obtain different levels of soul rings depending on their soul power. The first soul ring typically ranges around four hundred years, the second around seven hundred, and so on... up to the ninth soul ring, which can reach one hundred thousand years."
Tang San nodded — this aligned with Grandmaster's research.
"But that's only the standard distribution. Some special circumstances fall outside this framework."
Chen Xiaoming paused, glancing at the curious expressions around him, especially lingering on Tang San.
"For example, if a Twin Martial Soul soul master cultivated their first martial soul to the Titled Douluo level before attaching rings to their second martial soul... would they choose century-old rings or hundred-thousand-year rings?"
His gaze swept across the group, finally resting on Tang San.
Right now, the boy likely had no idea why Grandmaster had him cultivate Blue Silver Grass first.
Tang San's eyes flashed with understanding before quickly masking it — so that was the reason.
"Then, Teacher, are you a Twin Martial Soul user?"
Ma Hongjun caught on quickly, blurting out the question.
Chen Xiaoming shook his head. Twin Martial Souls? He was far more extraordinary than that.
In the infinite multiverse, he bore a legendary title — Cheat God!
"Your vision is still too limited. What I just described is only one possibility... there are many ways to achieve my current state."
He spoke casually, yet an inexplicable sense of profundity hung in the air.
Watching the group hanging onto his every word like obedient students, Chen Xiaoming couldn't help but feel a saintly glow rise within him.
Indeed... showing off was always better with an audience.
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